


There's a First for Everything

by ViennaWarren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cold, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Sick Castiel, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViennaWarren/pseuds/ViennaWarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a human, Castiel gets sick for the first time and is confused by it all. Thankfully, Dean is there to help him out. Multi-fic, set during season eight. Reads and reviews are appreciated. Rated T for some language. No triggers that I'm aware of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After spending his last quarter at the laundromat, Castiel seriously questioned what he should do next. What options did he have? Besides the obvious, which was continuing living on the streets. He peered out the frosty windows at the quickly falling snow. It would be cold, he figured. Cold, a particular feeling he hadn't truly noticed as an angel on Earth. He sure noticed it now.

Being a human was strange to him, so strange in fact, it felt as if he were in a new body. He touched the glass with his hand and wasn't surprised to find it cold. He could only imagine what it felt like in full force, outside.

"Are you still using the machine?" a woman asked, startling him.

"N-no." He cleared his throat. "I'm finished."

The woman smiled and nodded at him, turning away to put her quarter in the machine. Castiel took this as a sign that he needed to leave. A bell at the top of the door rang as he exited and an unfamiliar line from a movie echoed in his head.  _Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings._  Not this time.

* * *

The snow fell wet in his hair and down his spine, sending shudders through his thin figure. He was dressed in a pair of very used denim jeans and a thin t-shirt, despite it being the middle of winter. The freezing temperatures brought a thought to his mind. Where was he going to stay?

He walked briskly along the now snow-covered sidewalk, down Quaking Oak Drive and onto a street called Crimson Arbour. Shivering still, Castiel entered a back alley and nearly sat on another man.

"Hey, dipshit, watch it!" the man yelled angrily. He had his back against the brick foundation of a shop and was covered in a dirty blanket. A box of steaming Chinese food was atop his lap and Cas eyed it, almost hungrily. When had he last ate? And what was it?

"What are you starin' at? Move on, this is my territory." The man shovelled noodles into his mouth with great ferocity. Castiel gawked.

"I said move on!"

"I d-don't understand." his voice shook with cold. "I have been living here for at least fourteen days."

"Nope. Get."

Castiel pondered whether he'd meant 'get' was a command or an insult. When he didn't immediately react, the gruff-looking man threw off his ratty blanket and set his food aside. "You wanna go? Get the fuck out of here! Speak English?"

It was a mistake for Cas not to answer. As the snow fell around him, an unfamiliar man's fist met Castiel's cheek, hard. He stumbled back, gasping and watching his breath form white clouds in front of him. Another punch nailed him hard in the nose, possibly breaking it.

"S-stop, pl-please." the former-angel begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You got it? Leave, Jesus Christ."

"I am not Jesus Christ. My name is-"

A swift kick directed towards Castiel's ribs instantly silenced him. He didn't understand humans or their strange, violent ways.

* * *

 

By the time Castiel managed to get out of the alley, it was near 12:00 AM and his face sported a significant amount of blood. Few cars passed him as he trudged through the thick snow, sniffling. His nose was running and he didn't know what was wrong with it. His first conclusion was a malfunction of his vessel but there was no vessel. Only himself. Shivering, he sniffed again.

Shivering wasn't the only thing that plagued him, however. He felt fatigued and on the verge of collapse. Thankfully, he didn't feel cold anymore. Castiel's skin burned, practically giving off a heat of his own. He frowned. This couldn't be normal either.

It was getting harder and harder just to walk through the snow drifts and Cas considered stopping for the night when he saw something familiar. In the parking lot of the local Lieutenant Burger ("We take orders and serve you!"), a 1967 Chevy Impala sat comfortably in a parking space. It couldn't be… Dean?

Castiel shuddered and decided with a firmness that he hated the cold. One foot following the other, he made it to the car and was disappointed to find it empty. He gripped the car door handle, weakly pulling at warning, his knees buckled and he collapsed in the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean Winchester sat in a booth alone, his double bacon cheeseburger practically staring him in the face. He wasn’t hungry for a change, but had longed for some alone time. He loved Sam unconditionally, but the person or thing rather inside him was driving Dean a little crazy.

He also missed Castiel dearly, even if he wouldn't openly talk about it. In fact, other angels had to know where he was, right? On second thought, that could be dangerous, making a plea to the angel radio. Angels could be douche-bags anyway.

As a second option, God was there, wasn't He? Dean chuckled to himself, staring at the huge pile of fries in front of him. The idea of praying to God wasn't very comfortable for him, but he decided to do it regardless. He sure as hell wasn't going to pray aloud, but Dean did make an effort to fold his hands and duck his head down a bit.

 _Dear God,_  he began,  _it’s me, Dean Winchester. I, uh, well, I mean… I’m really missing a friend right now, named Castiel. He was one of your angels until you kicked everyone out. I mean, I guess it’s not your fault, uh, well, if you could, do you think you could send him my way? He might be in trouble and I’d--_

“Prayers never go unanswered, dearie. They just aren’t answered in the way you’d expect, most times!” An elderly woman smiled at him knowingly as she made her way out the door.

Dean was stunned, but didn’t think much of it. Finally deciding he wasn’t hungry at all, he trashed the uneaten burger and opened the door to leave.

* * *

The chill outside hit him like a cruel slap in the face. Dean took a sudden inhalation and dug around in his pants pocket, fingers longing for his keys. He found them and was half-way turned towards the driver’s side of the car when he saw the body.

“Holy fu--” Dean’s voice caught in his throat when he recognised the body. “C-Cas!”

Wasting no time, he tightened his jaw and felt for a pulse, briefly wondering why his friend wasn’t wearing a jacket. The pulse was weak, but there for sure.

Dean muttered ‘thank you’ to someone, something, whatever had allowed Cas to live. He lifted up the former-angel under his arms and was shocked at how light he’d become.

With Castiel now safe, for the moment, in the passenger’s side, Dean sped down the road, going 15, no, 20 miles over the speed limit.

* * *

 

 _“Sam!_ ” Dean yelled, dragging Castiel’s limp form into the bunker. “I need some backup here!”

Sam, laptop in hand, appeared from down the hall and nearly dropped his computer at the sight. “Is that--?”

“Yeah! Now give me a friggin’ hand already!”

They carried Cas to the nearest piece of furniture, the couch, and laid him down gently.

“Is he breathing?” Sam inquired, placing a large hand on his neck.

“Y-yeah, I think so.” Dean stammered nervously. “Should I call a doctor?”

“I don’t know, maybe we should--”   
  
Suddenly, Sam’s entire face transformed and Dean knew immediately that it was Ezekiel.

“Dean Winchester, the traitor must not rest here.”

“ _Traitor?_  Hang on a sec, Cas is really hurting and--”

“He goes or I go. He will endanger us all.”

“We don’t have fucking time to waste, Zeke. He’s dying!”

“He is not. Merely ill.”

“No, okay? I’ll keep an eye on him in my room. You won’t even have to see him.”

“It is not wise, Winchester.”

“Well, frankly, I don’t give a shit.”

“--probably just let him rest. He looks okay to me, although he definitely needs some cleaning up.” Sam finished his sentence, not aware of the conversation “he” and Dean previously engaged in.

“You’re right, he can sleep in my room. I’ll watch him.”

A fit of coughing surprised both brothers. Dean turned just in time to see Castiel open his eyes.

“Dean,” he croaked, managing a smile, “I knew it was you.” He began to cough again, harshly and Dean put his hand on the man’s forehead.

“Christ Sam, he’s burning up!”

“I think my body is malfunctioning. And I am so sorry for… well, for everything.” Castiel rasped in between coughs.

Sam nodded. “You’re sick, Cas. What you need is some rest. We can talk about everything else later.”

“Can you walk?” Dean inquired, ready to help if needed.

Cas winced, then slowly nodded. “I think so.”

He slowly got to his feet and Sam watched him intently. Dean was planted by his side. Suddenly, Castiel looked at Dean and tried to speak.

“Dean, my head feels funny.” Castiel’s eyes closed and his knees gave out.

Among other human experiences, fainting was becoming increasingly familiar to him.


	3. What is This Feeling?

When Castiel awoke from his fevered sleep, the first person he saw was Dean who was sitting in the chair next to him and trying (in vain) not to fall asleep. His head kept drifting down, then quickly bobbing up again, then down… then back up, back up. For some reason, Castiel felt the urge to laugh and did so, the laughter bubbling out of his chest like a bottle of champagne when first opened.

“I’m awake!” Dean grunted, throwing back his shoulders and blinked rapidly.

Cas chuckled. “I made no move to ask if you were sleeping, suggesting you were simply trying to protect your self-image and you were, in fact, asleep.”

Dean frowned, trying to process what he had just proclaimed. “Uh, okay. You hungry?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I made you some tomato-rice soup.” Dean pointed to the bowl on the bedside table. “My mom used to make it for me when I was sick.”

“I will try some. But I--” He broke off, coughing. Dean leapt to his feet and urged a glass of water into the man’s hands.

“Here, drink.”

“I don’t like being sick.” he decided, placing his glass gently back on the table.

Dean laughed. “Cas, no one likes being sick.”

“My eyes are watering, my head aches, it pains me to swallow and there is excessive nasal fluid in my… _heh… HEHshh!_ ” Castiel sneezed, then shot Dean a terrified look.

“I do not know what just hap…  _hapSHHH!_ ”

The eldest Winchester cracked up laughing. “B-bless you, C-Cas,” he panted, “you just sneezed.”

“Id hurds by head.” he moaned, then froze. “Dean. I can’d talk correcdly! Whad’s happendig?!”

Seeing Castiel’s panicked expression, he abruptly stopped laughing. “Sorry, no, this is normal. Uh, your nose is just congested. It affects how you talk.” Dean explained. “Totally normal. In fact, I bet Sam has some Vick’s you can put on your chest. Hang on.”

* * *

“Sam! Hey, listen, Cas seems really congested and miserable so I was wondering if you still had that vapour rub stuff.”

Sam nodded, leading him into the bathroom. “Yeah. Is he okay?”

“I guess. I mean, he hasn’t really said anything because he’s totally out of it, but I think he might be… human.”

“Human?” Sam cocked an eyebrow, handing Dean the tube of cream.

“Yeah. Do angels get sick?”

“How should I know?”

“And I mean, he never responded to me these past weeks when I…” Dean trailed off, suddenly not wanting to finish his sentence.

“When you what?”

“I don’t know, nothing.”

“Were you praying to him? This whole time?”

Dean looked embarrassed. “Well, yeah, I mean, he usually, you know,  _replies_.”

“Maybe he is human.” Sam pondered. “He did literally fall from Heaven, right?”

* * *

“Dean! This is really hehESH uncomfortab-ble.” Castiel sat in bed, knees up to his chest shivering. Now Dean was anxious again.

“Bless. Good news is I think all you have is a cold.”

“I kdow I’b cold, Dean.” Castiel actually rolled his eyes and Dean was half-worried that he’d go ahead and pull a bitchface too.

“No, I meant like a head cold. Never mind.” He sat down on the bed and handed Castiel the vapour rub. “This stuff goes on your chest and neck. It’ll help you breathe and talk… correctly.”

“Okay.”

They both were still unsure of how to proceed.

“Are you…? I mean, did you want me to…? Uh…” Dean silently cursed himself for being so goddamn awkward.

“I don’t know how to.”

Dean sighed. “Alright, alright, I’ve done this plenty of times for Sammy so, just take your shirt off.”

Castiel wriggled out of his blood-stained t-shirt, exposing his pale, bare chest. His blue eyes were still watering and Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy.

“Here you go.” he murmured, squeezing some of the scented cream onto his hand and applying it to Castiel’s chest. The former-angel inhaled quickly through his teeth and Dean stopped.

“The salve’s temperature is absolutely freezing.” He shivered.

“Oh, right, sorry. Almost done.”

“Id smells good.  _HeSHH!_ ”

“Bless you. There, all done.”

“Thags. _Heh… eh… EHSHH!_ ”

Castiel rubbed his nose, annoyed. “Won’t this ever st-stop? Dow by dose is… leaking.”

Dean set the Vick’s on the table and handed him a tissue. “Not leaking, running. Now blow.”

Cas did so, then sank back down into the covers. “Id’s cold.”

“Why don’t you wear one of my sweatshirts?” Dean offered, digging through some drawers. “It might be a little big on you, but it’ll help keep you warm.” He gently slid it over Castiel’s head.

“This is quite warm.” he commented. “I think I ab ready for soup dow.”

“Great. I think it’s still hot.” Dean carefully passed the bowl of steaming tomato-rice soup to Cas. “Don’t spill it.”

Cas sipped the soup slowly, then smiled. “Dean, this is very good. I had do idea you could cook.” He took in a large spoonfull, obviously impressed. “This is the best meal I have had in… weeks.”

The opportunity had finally arisen.

“Where’ve you been?”

The question was so simple, but the man hesitated. “I have been livig on the streeds.”

“Why?”

Castiel tilted the bowl up to his lips, drinking every last drop of the soup, then sighed. “When I fell from Heaven, I lost my grace. So I became human.”

Dean felt that his friend was holding back information, but he didn’t want to push it, especially now.

“Cas, listen, I’m sorry.” He glanced down at his feet. “I should’ve come looking for you, I know that, I just didn’t want to leave Sammy because believe it or not he was… he was pretty hurt. I didn’t know if he was gonna make it, but he ended up pulling through so… Well, anyway, I just want to say how--”

A strangled sound interrupted Dean from his monologue, causing him to look up. Castiel, snuggled in Dean’s old hoodie, was fast asleep and snoring congested. Sighing, Dean made it a point to buy some NyQuil at the pharmacy.

hurt. I didn’t know if he was gonna make it, but he ended up pulling through so… Well, anyway, I just want to say how--” A strangled sound interrupted Dean from his monologue, causing him to look up. Castiel, snuggled in Dean’s old hoodie, was fast asleep and snoring congested. Sighing, Dean made it a point to buy some NyQuil at the pharmacy.


	4. Hey Jude

Castiel woke up sneezing.  _“HEHESH! Haresh!_ ” This only made his aching head hurt more. He groaned lightly and rubbed a hand on his forehead, surprised to find a wet cloth there. Castiel absolutely despised human illnesses, especially this “head cold”. “ _Heh… ESH!_ ”

Eyes watering and half-way shut, he blindly groped for the tissue box on the bedside table. Another hand eased a tissue into the man’s reaching fingers.

Castiel’s bloodshot eyes flew open and Dean reflexively inched away. “Sorry, it’s just me.”

The former-angel relaxed almost immediately and blew his nose. “I assumed id was an idtruder.” he stated thickly. “Where you here all las’ dight?”

“Of course. I’ll be here all tonight too.”

“Why? Doesn’t Sab deed you?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s fine; you’re not.” He brought out a small, travel sized bottle. “I got you some NyQuil.”

“Whad’s thad?”

“Medicine.” Dean answered, measuring some out in a tiny plastic cup. “Here.”

Cas downed the purple mixture, raising an eyebrow. “This grabe flavoured remedy will cure be?”

Dean shook his head, smiling a bit. “Nope. There’s no cure for a cold. That one just knocks you out like a light.”

Castiel looked alarmed. “Dean, I don’d want to be unconscious; I hab just awoken!”

“Cas, you need the rest. You may have felt like you slept last night, but trust me, you were tossin’ and turnin’ up a storm. I doubt your body actually feels rested. Sam’s worried anyway, it was his idea.”

“I’b dot tired.” Castiel pouted like a child and Dean was amused to see him act this way.

“Ah, c’mon Cas. You wanna go hunting with us sometime, right?”

The man’s eyes brightened. “Yes! I’d love to!”

“Well, we can’t take you unless you’re all better. Got it?”

“God id.”

Dean settled back in his chair. “Now, I’m gonna sit here and watch you until you fall asleep. I’m serious.”

Cas sniffled and rubbed his nose. “Okay.”

After about five minutes of him rolling around, trying to find a decent sleeping position, Cas sighed deeply. “Dean, I can’d sleeb.”

“Uh, alright, here. I’ll try something now. My mom used to sing me a song when I was upset or feelin’ bad.” He glanced down at his feet, obviously feeling embarrassed. “If you want, I can try it with you. I’m not a good singer or anything, so don’t expect a performance.”

Castiel pulled the covers up to his chin and nodded. “Okay. Thag you.”

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and began.

 _“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better._ ”

Castiel had his eyes closed and was laying perfectly still, save for the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. He felt peaceful listening to Dean’s voice and in his own opinion, thought Dean was a great singer.

“ _Any anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders. For you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder._ ” Dean stopped there, seeing that his patient was breathing slowly and was near sleep.

“Thanks, Dean.” Castiel whispered, half-conscious. Without even thinking about it, Dean brushed back Castiel’s hair from his fevered forehead and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Right before Castiel drifted off, he thought that maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all. Being miserable was made bearable by having someone to take care of him. Maybe being human wouldn’t be so bad as long as he had friends that loved him.


End file.
